DIG (on USA!) debrief or: god is in the numbers.

Okay, Reader(s). You had Friday, Saturday, and I've given you all of Sunday morning to watch the first episode of DIG (on USA!). If you haven't followed directions, then you're about to have the whole thing spoiled for you. I mean it: the WHOLE thing. Maybe you like that, though, maybe that's your kink. If so, then this blog entry's for you.

First, I will just tell you my overall reaction to the show: gorgeous. (You knew I would say that, right?) The cinematography really was beautiful though; even critics who weren't impressed with the show itself said so. I don't know what episodes 2-10 will convey, but if you haven't seen the first show (and if you haven't, our coffee dates are all canceled til you do see it), then please watch it for that. You can "feel" Jerusalem. I must go there now. I must. (It's always been towards the top of my travel bucket list, but now it's number 2, right under the UK. I will feed my anglophilia with a UK trip, and follow that up with my need to be surrounded by something ancient...in Israel.)

Second, I felt the cast was wonderful. Anne Heche was so good at being no nonsense and in charge; Jason Isaacs does a good Lucius Malfoy, but he also knows how to portray inner wounded lambs magnificently; Ori Pfeffer was such a dick (not really, Ori Pfeffer! just Ori's character); and Alison Sudol was ethereal. ETHEREAL. And then there was Richard E. Grant. I mean, hello: Richard. E. Grant. (We'll talk Richard another day.)

Next, some business items:

I've been reading some of the critical responses, and I have a problem with them. Mainly I have a problem with them because they feel so early. This is not a typical American television series; typical American TV series go on and on and on (they hope). This does not. This tale is finite: there is a beginning, a middle, and an end. And it's not like the people connected to the show haven't been all over the Internet, talk shows, and podcasts saying this over and over til they're blue in the face. Americans! Connect the dots!

So the first episode reviewers who've announced the show is a big ol' mess--phhht. That's like reading E.M. Forster's Room with a View and after 1 chapter going, "Eh, I don't get it." That's like a book critic reading 10 pages of a book and going, "This book sucks." If you do that, then you're kind of missing the point behind storytelling. BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO READ THE WHOLE THING. Stories are about making connections--in 2nd grade Reading, I talk to kids about making text-to-text (this reminds me of the book...), text-to-self (this reminds me of when I...), and text-to-world (this reminds me of the time my neighborhood...) connections. I'm telling you this because I want you to understand why I hard rolled my eyes to the back of my head when I read reviews that went: This was confusing, or this was boring, or this was a mess (or whatever, there were at least 10 that made me hard roll my eyes waaay back). Because my teacher brain hears 2nd graders not paying attention to the story, people who were NOT listening to the directions, because they're playing with their little friends instead or whispering about what happened at recess...I think that when I read stuff like that. And by the way those kids always get UNsatisfactory on all their quizzes.

In addition, this is a relatively new concept for a TV series to America. Americans are used to the mini-series concept--2, 3, or 4 episodes that usually re-tell a really popular romance novel and usually shows on Lifetime Movie Network 100,000 times and is always on at my mother's house. But this is not really a mini-series. You can call it that, if you're an inside-the-box thinker, but it's not really a mini-series. It's a TV series that lasts one season. They've hinted there could be more, if this is wildly successful, and they've hinted that because TV networks are all about the money. But from every piece of information I've gleaned, the creators Gideon Raff and Tim Kring wrote it on spec (without being asked to) and weren't really thinking about creating a multi-billion dollar TV show franchise. They just wanted to tell a good story.

Which I think is nice. And I've long said that NBC (which owns USA Network) seems to be trying to do different things with television. It's a tricky medium. I'm not in the film/tv industry, but I have friends with family who are, and I'm telling you: this is a tricky medium to tell stories in, particularly in this country. I mean, you show your first chapter and people are suddenly declaring it shitty. And then the network gets skittish and yanks it off the air and re-runs episodes of Sarah Palin's Alaska instead.

This was never created to go on and on and on; the whole story is airing, whether you watch it or not, whether you like it or not. If you hate it, it's not being yanked off the air; it's showing, every Thursday at 10/9 Central and if you're not interested go watch The Voice or The Kardashians or something. That's a new concept for Americans, and a big reason I think some people aren't really getting what's going on. That, and we as a species have developed terrible attention spans along with the ability to creatively problem solve and process large pieces of information...thanks smart phones and testing obsessives!

Okay! I'm done, I am done. My rant is done. Now for the de-brief.

First of all, I'm not going to recap the show. There are people out there who've already done this, and are far better at being concise than I. Here's--> a good recap if you need one (and full disclosure: I'm absolutely using it because they pulled my tweet about the show and used it in their article, and my narcissistic tendencies are on full display now and I really don't care what you think about that.)

Second, there was so much going on in this episode. SO MUCH. Which is one reason why I think many of the anti-DIG reviewers said it was messy and confusing. That may be the point; it's supposed to be confusing, because there's a lot going on. There are symbols, hidden meanings, weird happenings, and no you don't get to know the characters right away, just like meeting a new person for the first time...relationships take time to develop; be patient. This happens in novels all the time, by the way. There are character arcs. Focus. Pay attention.

Because this is a television show that seems like a novel: episode 1 was the exposition: Once upon a time, there was a man named Peter who had a terrible thing happen to him and so he went to Israel...we're going to tell you a story about what happens next. Now there will be rising and falling actions, a climax, and eventually a denouement. This isn't for dumb people, is what I'm saying. 

Which is why I'm a little annoyed they piggy backed the premiere with a FAST AND FURIOUS 7 preview. I think it sent the wrong message. (I'm being a tad flippant here and totally alienating all the Vin Diesel fans...but I'm also sorta kinda serious and don't care what the Vin Diesel fans think, actually.) 

Third, I think if/when I de-brief the next 9 episodes (and can I be honest and let you know I'm not sure I will? I have a shitload of shitty shit on my Life Plate at the moment, and I'm ignoring about 90% of it so I can write this), if/when I do that, I will just deal with what I think is happening/my theories. Since I only have time to cull what is in my brain. If I try to pull from all the stuff that's out there, there will be explosive brain matter all over my kitchen--or wherever I write, because I like to be mobile.

I asked Jason Isaacs during his premiere live tweet (in which he did not stick to his stated program, which was that he was supposed to only tweet DURING THE COMMERCIALS. I have it on good authority that he takes direction well, but Thursday night was one time he did not.) And he actually answered me (!!) (I think he just felt bad about not answering any of my other fabulous questions I tweeted to him in February when they premiered DIG in New York and that was his apology) (I really don't ask Jason questions on Twitter; typically, I like to vary between just flippantly harassing him and expressing maternal sympathy for any man problems he tweets about. But when I do ask questions, I try to make them thoughtful...unless I'm in a flippant mood.) 

Where was I? Right! My question was if Alison Sudol's character was real, if there are paranormal aspects to the show. Jason said that was an interesting question and I was a good thinker. And so, in a nutshell, Jason Isaacs totally knows me now: an interesting thinker type. And if he's read any of my other tweets, he could add the words ridiculous and neurotic and hyperbolic. And also, he answered me but he didn't answer me. Tres misterioso. Jason Isaacs for UK Prime Minister! (I'm joking with Jason Isaacs, who has a marvelous sense of humor...if he'd actually answered anyone's questions that night, he'd have been in hot water with the USA Network people.)

So I'm running with it. Because I don't think Peter had a real interaction with Emma; I think it was in his mind. But then how would he have known what she looked like when she turned up murdered? And she slipped a stone into his pocket; how would that have gotten in there? So! Many! Questions!

Other things that make me think Peter Connelly isn't having real experiences in Israel: he called his wife. He didn't speak, and she basically told him to get a life and stop doing that and hung up on him. Later in the story, she calls him and complains about what he said to her the other night when he called her. I think she accused him of being drunk, but I'd have to go back and re-watch and Miss M and I need fresh air and sunshine today and so I don't have time. But isn't that interesting. (One reviewer complained about that--that person said it was sloppy writing. And that's why I say to those reviewers: YOU NEED TO WATCH THE WHOLE STORY. And pay attention. Stop expecting your information spoon fed to you. And quit talking to your neighbor during the lesson; there may be a quiz.) 

Also, Peter first sees Emma in the market and she disappears on him, like an apparation...when he finally does get to interact with her, it's preceded by a weird band of religious-y people walking around with torches and some creepy guy in a red cap looking strangely at Peter. At the end of the episode, he's in a bad car accident but still manages to chase down, on foot, a fleeing car. The chase leads him back to Emma's apartment, with the bad guy (Khalid) there in the apartment waiting for him. How did he get there? Why is Khalid there? How did both of them get in without the old man landlord and his key, the one who let Peter and Golen in the first time? And why did Khalid not kill Peter? He just took the stone and silently disappeared. Sooo...was Khalid actually even there? I have questions. And I'm totally okay not having them answered in episode number one. In fact, you know what, lazy thinkers? I'm ALSO okay not having all my questions answered by episode number 10. BECAUSE SOMETIMES LIFE DOESN'T GIVE YOU ALL THE ANSWERS. Entitlement = a real problem.

SO many other things going on this story I could write about, but that was a big one for me, that I don't think all of this is real or that maybe there's something paranormal/otherworldly going on or maybe Peter Connelly is just straight up fucking crazy. Personally, I hope it's all about the Universe. I'm a spiritual mystical, Divine Infinite type, and so I'm all about ley lines and spiritual crossovers/connections. This is where I made the text-to-self/text-to-world connections in the story exposition, and if you haven't made any connections yet, I think you should watch 2-3 more episodes because I bet you will.

More things I think viewers ought to pay attention to:

*Numbers and letters and symbols matter. I think there's something important about Emma's initials (EW) being carved on the wall. I think the number 7 in Tunnel 7 will have significance later on. I think the numbers 12 and 13 matter. I think the breast plate and the stones that are missing from it matter (the stone Emma slipped into Peter's pocket is from the breast plate, I've deduced). 

*The boy, Joshua. Clearly being groomed to the next Messiah. But there are more than 1 Josh, which is why Fay the evil lady (or is she evil? maybe she's not) was so okay smoking him in the desert (shot him...Fay killed a little boy, is what I'm saying). I bet they have about 12-13 clones, and each Josh is about to turn 13 years old. 

(Can we talk about how mystical the number 13 is? In Christianity, 13 is an evil number, bad luck. In Judaism, it's basically the number for God. In Christianity, God the sole entity is split into 3 pieces (the Trinity); in Judaism, all the pieces lead back to God...there's a thing about a cube, I think--a cube has 12 lines on it and all the lines connect in the center, which is 1...12+1=13. All numbers lead to God. And Hebrew letters all have a significant meaning; in addition, they are each assigned a number. There's a thing called gematria that you do with Hebrew letters. The Hebrew word echad which means "one" equals the number 13. The Hebrew word for love (ahava) equals 13.  In Hebrew, if two words together equal the same value, then the essential meaning of the two words is the same. And so, ahava is 13, echad is 13, another word Hashem (meaning, essentially I think: God is all) equals 13. Therefore, echad ahava Hashem...God is love, God is one, God is all. Equals 13.) 

In fact, 13 is all over Judaism. There are 13 examples of God's divine mercy; Jewish boys and girls have bar/bat mitzvahs at 13. There are 13 Hebrew letters in the name Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The names of their wives, Sarah, Rachel, Leah, and Rivka also all have 13 Hebrew letters. The Hebrew Bible has 39 books (3 x 13). Adonai, the Hebrew holy word for "God" has a numerical value of 26, which is 13+13, and there's a thought that's because it's a balance of masculine and feminine.  ....and 13 is also in Christianity as well: Jesus had 12 disciples (plus Jesus = 13). Also think about: 12 months of the year, 12 signs of the zodiac...

Holy shit! You guys!  I totally HEART stuff like this!

Also pay attention to the number 7. God created the world in 7 days. And the dig is about the lost ark, the covenant. The first covenant God made with man was with Noah. Noah's father lived to be 777, and had Noah when he was 182 (14x13, which is a multiple of 7 times the number 13). 

I mean, I could go on, but I bet you have things to do. The breast plate is an important piece to the puzzle, as are the missing 12 (see? numbers) stones. The breast plate is a real thing--it's called the Hoshen, and it's basically a direct line to God. Priests wore it to atone for the sins and misjudgements of the Children of God. There are 12 stones that fit in the breast plate, and each represents the 12 tribes of Israel. Some researchers believe the initials of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and their wives were engraved on the stones. 

The stones colors I think will matter, at least the color red. The red heifer is a thing, and the stone Emma put in Peter's pocket was red(dish). Some scholars think the other stones in the breast plate are the colors yellow, green, and blue. In addition to black and white, those are the first 6 colors all languages recognize. That might become a focus later on, but now I'm just reaching at everything. 

So I'm going to stop here. Because it's a beautiful, sunny day here and I would like to take my little girl for a walk. And also I have a cold virus that's set up shop in my sinuses. And tomorrow is Monday and I have to go help wayward children become model citizens. And if I keep thinking about all the secret code stuff that was in this first episode alone (and I know I've missed TONS--for example, I didn't even get to Richard E. Grant's suspicious character, the key symbol, the peace sign symbol in Emma's window, her journal and Peter's stealing of it, that whole weirdness about Peter and Emma skinny dipping in the holy water at the dig site, and Emma kissing Peter and his freaking out about it. I didn't get into bad guy Khalid and the car crash, or into the whole Temple Mount/Dome of the Rock stuff either), then my brain will explode. And, y'all, listen: I really, really need my brain this week.

To summarize: this show is smart, and if you don't think so I'm not saying YOU aren't smart, but I am suggesting maybe you're not focusing. Also, I'm going to Israel. I don't know when, but I'm going. And God is in the numbers, and so now I wish I was better at Math (ha! just kidding-no I don't; I'm fine sucking at Math). Last, we are slowly devolving into a species that (a) doesn't listen, (b) doesn't pay attention, and (c) has no focus. There people out there who will take advantage of this, mark my words.

If Gideon Raff or Tim Kring need someone to file papers for them or make them coffee or whatever, they can contact me. I can be free all summer.

tough magic.

I am back to normal. By "back to normal" I mean: exactly 50% less geeky. What you witnessed last night was Amy on Geek Crack. I hope I didn't tweet anything too embarrassing to Jason Isaacs, Alison Sudol, or Anne Heche. Or DIG (on USA!). (Geek Crack is street drug lingo for 2 glasses of wine after a really long day.) 

Also, I re-read my entire blog piece about DIG (on USA!) from yesterday. I should never, ever attempt to live blog again. I clearly haven't got a clue what I'm doing. Were you confused? I'm so sorry if I confused you. I was excited and drinking wine. Two things that work better for me in person than online. If you'd been in my bedroom with me, I promise: we'd have had THE best time. But watching from your computer may have given you an entirely wrong impression of me. Or, I don't know, probably the right one in terms of me, online. 

....I would like to note, though, that according to my blog statistics, I have garnered DIG (on USA!) about 360 pairs of eyeballs (if those eyeballs all followed my directions correctly). Add that with my Facebook (180) and Pinterest (1800) eyeball pairs, multiplied by all the tweets I geeked out all night about DIG (on USA), that's about 3,180,180,017 viewers for them last night. From ME alone! (This is why I don't do my own taxes.) (And you're welcome, USA Network.)

Tomorrow, I will go into further detail as I de-brief you about the show. If you haven't watched it yet (and if you haven't: are you effing KIDDING me?! What the. Listen, don't even give me that look--you are THISCLOSE to my Shit List. Jesus Christ). If you didn't DVR or TIVO it and/or you simply don't have USA Network, go -->HERE<-- to watch the pilot episode. BEFORE SUNDAY. I'm not kidding: I have this much time to play catch up with you: 0. Zero minutes.

Miss M has begun her football (soccer) season. This is her first real team sport, and it is being coached by a real football team player. FROM ENGLAND. ....Oh, Internet. Do you have any idea what this did to me when I showed up and M's coach spoke his first words to me? You don't. Internet, you don't even know. Had it not been so cold, I'd have melted into a gooey puddle of bluthering anglophilia. Seriously, her first game is tomorrow and I've already planned my outfit and coordinated my hair and make up. If I'd only KNOWN before I came to practice tonight--I'd have at least refreshed my lipstick. I mean, for the love of all, it was freezing tonight at soccer practice and I needed a thicker coat, but if I got up to get it from my car, that meant I'd miss drinking up some of handsome Coach Mark's exotic football player talk. And as I was utterly opposed to missing out on exotic British football player talk, I sat in enthralled, raptured, frozen misery. My issues for this accent run far, and deep. (I don't know why. I'm sure I'm a psychiatric researcher's wet dream, though.)

Besides which, he was directing and interacting with little girls, and he was sweet and silly and patient and they were sweet and silly and impatient, and nobody--NOBODY--was focusing on the ball. They were just interested in holding hands and jumping around in circles, and he was kind and sweet and patient with all of them. Tomorrow's game is going to be just one 60 minute fiasco of freaking ridiculous little girl cuteness, I can tell, with a patient, kind Englishman gently reminding rambunctious little girls how to run around a pitch, reminding them for the 10,000th time: ONLY USE YOUR FEET. (And: which is your goal? which is the goal you're stopping the ball? And: No, no, ducks--go the other way, the OTHER way. And: Come on now, Let's have a go, darlings. You can DO it!)

Just thinking about this is making my heart melt all over again. There is nothing like watching a gentleman use a hot accent to coach little squirrely girls who are running amok and not even listening to him a single bit. Meanwhile, one of the mums in the audience is in her purse looking for her smelling salts. 

Whole. Night. MADE.

At any rate, Miss M kept running over to give us high fives. She made some goals (I have no idea how she accomplished this, other than maybe the other little girl she was playing against was even less coordinated and/or aware of her surroundings). So we cheered--yay! YOU DID IT! GOOOOO M! And then somebody else made a goal and we cheered the same for them, except we said GOOOOO J! And thus began the drama queenery: I am NOT to cheer for other children, even ones on Eagles United (the name of M's team).

I saw the face. I know it. I know that Oh HELL no! look that Miss M gets whenever she feels certain she's been slighted. (That's from my DNA. The hypersensitive, did-you-just-IGNORE-ME?!? mitochondria--that's all me.) And maybe the fact she's got Only Child Syndrome. That may be a lot of it, too. Which is why I say she just wants all the attention. 

A future television reality star, is what I'm saying. I'm not raising a future Meryl Streep; I'm most likely raising the next Kim Kardashian. Which is fine! I'm totally fine with this; Kim K is rich beyond her wildest dreams. I just don't want any Kanye Wests brought into the family, or that strange--what was he? a basketball player? The one who had no couth or IQ and was being led around by all the Kardashian women like broken puppy. No sports people. No. And nobody who dresses like THIS:

I can't even. I mean, can he BREATHE?

I'm being very judgmental, aren't I? I think that was a New Year's goal of mine, to stop doing that to fellow human beings. But I mean, honestly, who comes up with stuff like this? (Although...most Monday mornings, I guess I'd actually kind of like to have a face cover. It would shave 25 minutes off my prep time and I could make all kinds of faces at people I don't like very much and no one would be the wiser.) 

Speaking of England (keep up, I'm off Kanye and back to soccer now): I showed my class PETER PAN (2003 version) today. We'd watched the Disney version, then read the chapter book...actually, I read the chapter book, doing my very bad posh British accent for the dialogue parts. (Two things about this: -1-switching between American and British is hard on the tongue, and -2-I have two accents I'm halfway good at: posh British and Lucky Charms Irish [The Irish hate Americans like me, every March 17: "ach! bless me loocky chARms!" "Top o' the marnin' to ye!" All. Day. Long.]. And I have one accent I absolutely excel at: twang Southern.) (I don't think I actually sound that Southern, though I do say "y'all," and "bless his heart." If I start talking fast, I also drop all my g's from my -ing words turn the pronoun I into AH. And then there's the slurring of my words....okay. Okay, fine. I'm a damn Yankee Southerner. Whatever.) 

So after reading the book (by the way, PETER PAN by JM Barrie is in my Top 5 most favorite children's books...it's all about bravery and loyalty, friendship and imagination, conquering fears and going forth into the dark vast of the unknown; ultimately, it's about staying true to yourself...and, of course, staying forever young no matter what), and after completing numerous compare/contrast, writing, character analysis, and other very very academic activities, we watch the 2003 movie. Which is just magical. It has some plot issues (for instance, what's up with the weird Aunt Vanessa Redgrave character? I mean, I liked her character, I just didn't get why they put her in), but little kids don't know about any of that, and frankly they don't care. They just come to be entertained. And if a little kid isn't entertained, they'll let you know. In ways Mark Kermode couldn't even begin to try to rival. (Do you know who Mark Kermode is? He's smart: go here.)

So I read this book and show this movie to my classes every year. And every year, I have to, at some point, stop the movie and say things like the following:

"Hey. This isn't a football game. We aren't cheering for teams. Just WATCH THE MOVIE."

"Hey. Stop with the running commentary. Peter can't hear you."

"Hey. You guys are a HORRIBLE movie audience. If this were a real theater, I'd be glaring hard at you in the dark and shushing you. And then I'd call a manager over to have you forcibly removed."

"Hey. Pencils are NOT popcorn. Stop that."

Every year! Every year I have to stop the movie periodically to say things like that. But not this year--this year, they were enthralled and captivated. And you know that part when Tinkerbell drinks the poison? They immediately started clapping so she'd live again. And when they realized this movie doesn't do the clapping, they started immediately chanting "I DO believe in fairies, I DO I DO!" I tried to capture that moment on Instagram--no faces being shown, that could land me on the 5 o'clock news, y'all--you'd have just seen my lesson plan book and heard a bunch of upset children begging a fairy to live, live again! But my phone mucked up. (Typical.)

Anyway, at the end of the movie, I took a quick straw poll. Usually, my classes are all about the pirates. All the little boys want to know where they, too, can purchase themselves a Capt. Hook hook after seeing this film. Not this year--this year, they all wanted to be Lost Boys, and the girls wanted to be Wendy or Tinkerbell or Tiger Lily. I think I had one little girl who secretly aspires to piracy. But more eye widening? One of my toughest little boys came up to me at the end of the day and whispered, "Ms. S, I really DO believe in fairies." 

Oh my god. Internet, OH MY GOD. I'm tearing up again just remembering. I mean, seriously. This is the little boy who gets yanked out into the hallway at least once a week and told, "I am very disappointed in your choice. This isn't funny! Look at my face: this is my I am NOT HAPPY with you teacher face and I do NOT like having to wear my I am NOT HAPPY with you teacher face." And also back in December he tried to ruin Santa Claus for a little girl in our class. Freakin' kid.

But now he really does believe in fairies. He does. He DOES! You guys! This is when Movies can truly bring us Magic. 

(Don't get starry eyed; I promise by Monday afternoon that kid'll be back in the hallway and I'll be crouched down in front of him going, "WHEN. When? When do you think you'll make a better choice? Go move your clip down and figure out how you'll fix your problem. Let me know when you have a solution. And this is NOT funny.")

British league soccer coaches with soft hearts for little girls. Tough little boys who secretly believe in magic. ......And then there's Kanye West's idea of fashionable.

Going to stick with soft-hearted Brits and tough little boys who secretly believe in magic.

TWO HOURS!! DIG (on USA!)

Update (1:00 AM, March 6, DIG De-brief Day):  

1. It. Was. Stunning. 

2. I mean it. If you didn't watch this show, you missed out. 

3. Jason Isaacs acknowledged me. He knows my name! THIS MEANS WE'RE GOING TO HAVE DINNER TOGETHER SOME DAY. (or, you know, i'll hand him a Starbucks on set and be asked to move out of the way.) 

4. THERE COULD BE PARANORMAL ASPECTS TO THIS SHOW. That was my question I asked, that Jason Isaacs answered with a non-answer. 

5. I need to go to Israel. 


I'm going to bed. This was THE best day of 2015. Second ONLY to when Neil Gaiman acknowledged me on Twitter.

Seriously. If I could get Jason Isaacs and Neil Gaiman together in a room with me, I would be in severe meltdown. The fact that they have both now acknowledged me on that social media platform tells me I'm winning Twitter. (At least on New Year's Eve and March 5.)

All righty then. So your DIG De-brief Day is March 8. If you haven't seen DIG, episode 1, yet (and if you haven't, what the hell?! Have you NOT been paying attention??), get busy--this blog goes spoilertastic in about 48 hours.

Update (less than an HOUR!): Dig (on USA!) tweeted me a mysterious picture with my name on it! (I'm such an effing geek right now. Can you feel the geekiness coming through the Internet, through your computer screen? 

If only I'd used the avatar picture with the GOOD lighting. 

Is your popcorn popped? Do you have a notebook and pen in hand, so you can take copious notes about all the crazy stuff you're about to see? So you can be THE DIG (on USA!) expert tomorrow? How obnoxious have I been? (Only if you follow me on Twitter.)

Jason & Friends will be live tweeting the premiere (I'm assuming the 10 PM one, because they're re-airing it until like 3 AM or something). I don't know why Jason & Friends have been told to live tweet, because this seems like serious stuff people need to concentrate on. Also it's fast-paced action adventure--I hope they're fast typers.

If you'd like to follow along with the live tweet, you can follow Jason's twitter (@jasonsfolly) and/or the hashtag #DigDeeper or #DIGonUSA. That's what I'll be following, at least, and I think the #digdeeper tag is the preferred tag.) Jason just announced he's doing a live Reddit AMA with show creator and super smart guy Gideon Raff --it's going on right now. Or it's already over. Or it's almost over. I don't know. Twitter and the Internet are too fast for me, and my brain is already hurting. I AM nursing a cold, you know.

Edit (9PM...ONE MORE HOUR!!): If you're a storyteller and have a chance, I do highly recommend you go read the AMA Reddit I linked to. Gideon Raff is superb, and superbly sweet in this, to all the budding storyteller/writers out there. (Jason is lovely and quite amusing, too. And he did his swanky British spelling! in several places.) 

Listen--Jason Isaacs. Super human. If his tweets are to be believed, he's operating on 2 hours of sleep, and he's been going non-stop since, like, 6 AM or something. He's been on the TODAY Show. He's been to some offices somewhere in Manhattan where people keep taking pictures of him. He's been to the New York Stock Exchange. He's been on Twitter, tweeting ALL DAY LONG. (This is almost unprecedented for Jason. Jason, there are people out there who are going to go into serious Jason Isaacs tweet withdrawal when this is over.) (I myself will miss your silly sense of humor.) But mostly I am thinking: Jason, have you eaten? At least tried to take a nap? Had some private, meditative alone time away from the madness? The mother in me would like to know. And stay away from those stock exchange people--have you not seen The Wolf of Wall Street??

God bless him. I hope he goes straight to bed after the live tweeting is done. And then takes a very long holiday with his sweet family somewhere tropical and lush.

As for me, I did not pop popcorn. I'm sorry; I know I've been telling all of you to do this since, like, two days ago. As early as this morning if you're on my twitter feed. But! I do have wine. Except not in celebration of Dig (on USA!), but because it has been a DAY, y'all. I'm going to go have Miss M brush her little angry, indignant teeth, and then I'm settling in for the night with my wine, my laptop, my television tuned into USA Network, and my inner PR person ready to go.

Thank god for a good bedtime story to end this weird day on a good note.

Here's a really cool interview you can read on Variety magazine while you wait for DIG (on USA!) to start:
DIG is actually not really like The Da Vinci Code at all. (and thank god! thank god for it.)

And if you're not into reading tonight, you can watch this:

And I apologize. I really meant to create a quiz based on all the interviews and videos I posted last time, but I was at work doing parent conferences and creating Word Study quizzes until 5:30 tonight, and this gal's teacher brain is officially toast.

But I'm not kidding! Watch DIG (on USA!) tonight (at 10, 9 central) because this weekend there really WILL be a quiz. And if you flunk it, I mean it: we can't be friends.

DIG (on USA!) #DigDeeper (you know you want to)

You guys!!! This is IT!!! Dig (on USA!) is about to start. TOMORROW! I can't even...this feels like I've been climbing the Matterhorn and I'm about to ski down it. TOMORROW!  At 10 PM (9 Central), USA Network. (If you have DISH Network, it's on Channel 105.) (If you have something else, go do your own Google researching.)

I've been following the making of this show since this summer; I've practically bought stock in it (I don't know if you can tell or not). So I think we should petition Congress to have a national DIG (on USA!) holiday moment. I already have an itinerary for us, America. Here it is:

March 4 (today!!)--DIG Eve. Get your popcorn ready, make your Jell-O shots, decorate (ancient archaeological/Negev/Sonoran Desert themes ONLY). Get ready for amazingness and good cheer (and fire up the Google so you can double check on whether or not the stuff from this show could actually happen).

March 5--DIG Day (D-Day). Invite family and friends or just friends who are like family over for the major television event of 2015. Jason Isaacs (we're Twitter buddies again, now that I've completely absolved and totally forgiven him his trespass of last week) says they'll be live tweeting the show. I don't know how I feel about live tweeting, quite frankly. Sometimes I like to watch it as it happens, but then I always feel under way too much pressure to add to the conversation, and if I'm going to add to that kind of a conversation, I prefer to just be witty and clever. And I can't just...BE witty and clever, Internet. The stars have to align just right for everything witty and clever that leaves my brain. So I stay out of live tweet fests. Unless I've been drinking, but that's another tale for another time. 

And also, I think I'll need to focus on this show. Because I think there may be a lot of: What?! Oh no he DIDN'T! and Holy shit!! Could that seriously HAPPEN?!?! and That is sooooo very messed up!! and This planet is going to hell in a handbasket! going on in my brain. I may even say some of that aloud. I don't know. It depends on how tired I am--10 PM is about an hour past my regular bedtime. It is nothing short of a testament to my admiration for Jason Isaacs' innate ability to tell good stories that I am staying up past my bedtime and with a massive head cold no less....and! I'm not even expecting a thank you! I'm merely doing this because he's a fellow creative, and I sense this is going to be a don't-breathe-or-you'll-miss-something kind of show. ..........Okay, okay, FINE. He also spells swanky and I have an inability to deny men with British accents. Even though he sounds like Chicago in this show. Which is slightly sad, I feel. But I wasn't in charge of deciding the character's accent.

March 6-Boxing DIG Day. Like Boxing Day in England, except no charitable collections (unless you want to). This is the day we gather around the water coolers at work, or meet up at Starbucks or happy hour after work, or get on Facebook and Twitter, and start our arguments, our analyses.

We will continue this process, every week, for the next nine weeks (actually, as a matter of fact, I just realized: this show is going to take me through the end of my school year. Just as DIG ends, I will be going on summer break. Y'all! This is an omen, it's a SIGN.) We will continue this process:every Wednesday will be pre-DIG Day followed by Thursday DIG Day and then Friday post-DIG Analyses/Arguments Day, you know...just basically making ourselves insane until the 10th episode airs, when our minds will be blown because I have it on good authority that that episode is going to be crazy epic. 

But then this is the fun of an action/adventure/thriller/conspiracy story, isn't it? The insanity that taunts you, til you reach the very end, the very explosive and mind-blowing end. Just like sex, except this is going to be FAR less messy and sweaty (maybe) (you may experience at least the need to catch your breath periodically throughout the pilot, switch viewing positions, whatever).

Here are some more fun things for you to watch, so you can start to get your DIG on:

Have I mentioned that this show ALSO has Downton Abbey's Richard E. Grant in it? Oh, how I do love Richard E. Grant. I need to stay focused on the topic of this show, what this blog is about, so I can't go into more detail than that. But remind me: because I heart Richard E. Grant a whole heckuvalot, and I will point you to some of his marvelous body of work some other time. 

I confess: I really don't watch a lot of TV on actual TV...I usually get my shows via DVR or Netflix or Amazon or some other way--it's a time constraint/raising a small child issue. But if YOU do watch actual TV, and you've been watching anything on USA Network, then you've probably seen them interrupting your viewing pleasure with weird and creepy DIG promos. 

I don't know what these look like, but according to a lot of irate people on Twitter, they are creepy and STOP IT, USA NETWORK. You know what else they've been doing on Twitter? Randomly selecting people to tweet at, saying mysterious things to them for no apparent reason, when the person has been tweeting about something that has nothing at all to do with DIG (on USA!) whatsoever. Like THIS. And THIS. 

Stuff like this just makes me like USA Network even more, because I am always so amused when people's regular routines are interrupted by the loud and obnoxious. It's a breath of fresh air in a stale, beige world.

Will you watch DIG? If you don't, and I blog some more about it (and FYI: I will blog some more about it, and there could be spoilers, I simply cannot be held responsible if you don't watch--I will give you til each Sunday to catch up and watch Thursday's episode, but after that? I cannot be held responsible. Sundays are going to be my DIG de-brief day, and if you don't watch, you won't have a freaking clue what I'm going on about...and I am NOT stopping to catch you up). You'll be out of the loop. On the fringes. Flailing in the wind. Tossed about in a wide, Sargasso Sea. Lost and confused. Don't do it to yourself, reader(s)! Don't do it.

Wait! Before you go...do you have about 20 minutes? If you do, watch this video of Jason Isaacs talking about DIG (on USA!) and his role in it.

Source: Seat42F.

 All I could do, the whole time, is wonder: what the heck did they do to your FACE?? Followed by: I am so in the wrong job. How fun would THAT be, to have the make up department mess your face up every day? Because after work, I'd leave that beat up face make up on, go out to dinner and act all casual but also really skittish, and just let the other diners wonder about me. And if I could go out with other people for dinner whose faces were also destroyed by a make up department? Oh happy DAY! We could create a whole scenario and really freak out the other diners. I'd write a script and everything for it. Live dinner theatre, if you will.

I'm going to put that on my bucket list, right up there next to "have tea at Buckingham Palace."

And if you have 12 minutes more, you can watch this interview with lovely Anne Heche:

Source: Seat42F.

And here's another lovely find--what a nice human being. If you have 15 MORE minutes, you can watch this interview with talented Ori Pfeffer:

Source: Seat42F.

...In his interview, Ori talks about Jason's love of bringing music on set. I don't know if Jason realizes it or not, but there's like a whole psychological thing behind using music to motivate; I do it all the time with 7 and 8 year olds--everybody works better including their teacher. Ori also talks about Gideon Raff's Israeli series Prisoners of War, something you should watch if you love Homeland (it's the series that the Showtime series Homeland was based off of) (have you seen that amazing series, Homeland? If not, honestly. I don't even know what to do with you. Go click those links I posted and Get. Busy.) (but first: watch DIG on Thursday). Both Prisoners of War and Homeland are stories that are all kinds of complicated and multi-layered, two things I'm a ginormous fan of in most of my stories. 

Okay, let's summarize your homework (due tomorrow, so focus!):

*get popcorn/Jell-O shots ready (you can choose other snacks if you'd like...if it weren't a school night,  I'd be drinking chocolate martinis, for instance).

*decorate your house (Negev and/or Sonoran desert and/or ancient Middle Eastern archaelogical themes ONLY)

*Set your DVRs or TIVOs or whatever, because you'll probably need to review some of the more brain exploding parts. This will also make you the DIG expert in all your arguments until next week's episode.

*Watch all of the videos I've posted. (I'm not kidding. There may be a quiz.)

*Watch Prisoners of War and Homeland. (We'll count that as extra credit.) (On the quiz.)

Ready? GO!

fearless.

I don't have a lot to share today. I'm brewing myself up a nice, hot cup of viral cold and I need about a million hours of naps. Jason Isaacs is back on the My Heroes list (I have 4 lists I keep going in my head at all times: My Heroes/Favorite Humans, Not Speaking To, Shit List, and Dead To Me...for a brief period he was on the Shit List, for the last 48 hours he was on my Not Speaking To list, and now--because he's cute and nice and didn't ask for the Y chromosome--he's my favorite again and our break is over.) (OMG, does he even KNOW?! If he were an 8 year old boy in my class, we'd be standing in the hallway having a private chat, and I'd be saying things like: "I love you, but do you understand why I'm so upset right now?" and "What choice do you think you can make next time?" And then he'd have to write an apology letter to me or to whoever.) (I'm actually pretty lenient on my boys; it ain't easy having a Y chromosome.)

Today I'm just lying in bed thinking about how to be more fearless. I was thinking the other day: why DON'T I write more, and send more things out to be published? Is it my thin skin? Or is it laziness (I will confess: I am unable, currently, to reject Lazy when she shows up at my door with a bottle of wine and some new indie movies on DVD). 

Really, what I think I'm most afraid of is success. What if I WERE successful? Oh my god--if I were successful, then I might have to go promote my book (or my whatever I'd written). This could involve interviews. I am terrible at interviews; I haven't even done one for a job in about 17 years, you know. It could involve going to bookstores and interacting with people I don't know, and having to carry on conversations with complete strangers. I am terrible at carrying on conversations with complete strangers (unless we're talking politics, sex, or religion and I am certain I will never ever see you ever again). It might mean I have to go do a press junket of some sort--I'll have to stand, at a podium, and give a speech or whatever about something I'd written. I can't imagine anything worse than standing at a podium in front of XX number of strangers and speaking. Out loud. Just thinking of it (and it's just a pipe dream; the likelihood of it happening is .00000000001%) is making my stomach churn and my fight or flight instinct is in overdrive. 

I totally get why Harper Lee didn't write another book for 55 years and JD Salinger was a recluse.

Because, really, I could deal with the rejections. I could even deal with internet assholes giving their uninformed critiques of whatever I've written. I would be sad and mopey for about 24 hours, and then juuuuust fine. It's the promoting myself and interacting with other human beings I fear the most.

Isn't that so freaking weird? I think that's so freaking weird about me. Because it's not like I have that disorder that makes me afraid to leave my house--I love to get outside. And it's not like I'm even necessarily shy--I can talk to strangers. I just prefer not to, unless I have something important and meaningful to say. And I like a good party...as long as I can have restful peace and quiet for a whole day after. In addition to all of that, hellooo--I'm a teacher. My whole day is about getting up in front of 25 people and singing, dancing, doing the silly voices/accents in stories, etc and so forth. (Maybe this is why I'm so tired all the time.) 

I wish I could figure me out. Do you have me figured out? If you do, would you please, please, please hit the black email button on the upper right hand side of this blog so you can tell me? I will buy you dinner. We can get a couples massage together or something, too. Maybe go see a play or a movie or some live music. 

Here are some photos I'm going to be focusing on, thinking about, this week. You can too, if you want:

Do you? Do you really, Fate? Let's hope so!

C.S. Lewis: optimist.

Oh, how I love dear, sweet, wonderful Mary Oliver.

My Five Year Plan.

orgasmic sweet tea will help you #digdeeper

A snippet/teaser from the makers of DIG. It has nuns in it. These nuns aren't scary at all!

(Ha, no. I'm just messing with you. These nuns will haunt your dreams--the first time I saw this snippet I was incredibly nervous. These nuns seem worse than 

The Omen and The Exorcist combined. Whoever decided to put these nuns into the show DIG has a healthy sense for the sinister macabre.)

So, my DIG (on USA!) free PR work continues. But first, true confession: I can be a bit hot headed. To begin, I'd like to apologize to Jason Isaacs for being so hot headed the other night (I don't know if he noticed or not). But I would also like to state that Jason Isaacs is LUCKY there is massive evidence he's a nice man. He's my favorite again, but I'm still not ready to speak to him just yet. It's a long and geeky explanation--it involves a snow(less) day off of school I had, the DIG world premiere in New York City, and Jason's inability to stick to his own stated program: he asked for hard hitting questions they could ask the cast at the DIG world premiere. He specifically asked for this. On his Twitter page. He did not tweet: Hi everyone, tweet me all your easy questions I've been asked in other interviews. He tweeted: Hi everyone, hit us with your hard questions about DIG. Hard questions, not the easy already asked questions. Hard.

Honestly, I really couldn't think of any hard hitting questions when his tweet hit my Twitter feed; my brain is in massive burn out most days of the week. But the next day, I got an unexpected day off which meant some more sleep. Whilst cleaning my kitchen that morning, I thought of a brilliant--a stunning and brilliant--hard hitting question for Jason or any of his cast mates to answer. Seriously, I'm in the wrong job--I should be working for E! News or somebody. So I posted it. I followed the hash tag directions and posted it to him. Then, my smart brain thought of, like, 3 more. And one was a thoughtful yet super fun one that any other normal human being would have read and gone: ta da! Awesome, Amy, thanks for doing all the interviewers' work for them! 

But no. No, Jason Isaacs did not do that. He picked a question I'd already seen/heard him answer in about 5 other interviews and he went with that one. The repercussions for him, from my house in Atlanta, GA were absolutely stupefying. OMG. I was SO mad at him! So mad.

I wasn't mad because I expected any of my questions to be chosen; it was that he'd asked for hard-hitting. If you ask me for hard-hitting, then by god, I will give you what you want and I will serve it to you in stilettos with a Scarlett O'Hara accent on a china plate; a Southern special with a side of barbecue sauce that'll make you drool 'til next week, and a sweet tea that tastes like orgasms you can only dream of. But furthermore and also: I followed that hash tag question thingy all day; I saw some other amazingly astute questions people clearly poured their hearts and soul into as well. I'd see a new one post and go: Oh, high five, DIG on USA fans! You people are smarties! Then the questions started at the world premiere, which we were all invited to watch online as they happened. And what did Jason do? Instead of drinking orgasmic sweet tea, he went out for McDonald's instead.

Jason! Isaacs! So. MAD. at you. I think I even said some British swears in your direction, so you'd really understand me.

At any rate, my hot headed self got her panties in a wad, went back and deleted all her questions. Basically what I'm saying is: I'm sorry, I over-reacted, please don't feel bad, Jason--I've done the SAME thing to family members on Facebook...ask them about it; they'll tell you the stories with a lot of drippingly sarcastic, hard eye rolling. (If Jason and I actually knew each other for real in real life, I would have deleted the Facebook posts, then refused to answer his phone calls or return his emails and texts, for at least 3 days. Later, after I was taking his calls/emails again and we'd made up, if ever the incident came up, I'd become incredibly smart-alecky with him. Two years after the fact, even.)

I don't know if you can tell or not: histrionic drama queen is a genetic marker in my family. Mother's side. (Father's side has combative arguers with addictive personality issues.) I don't have proof, but I may have Sicilian in my genetic pool somewhere. Or Israeli--I have a friend who says Israelis are very hot headed, too. And my last name indicates I may have Biblical connections so...

He's forgiven. I like him too much. He's one of my storyteller heroes, and it's hard for me to stay mad at a talented, nice guy storyteller hero beyond 48 hours. (However, if he really wants to make it up to me, he can get me into Sundance 2016.)

Okay.  Onto DIG (on USA!).

You guys! Oh my GOD! You guys! Do you understand that it's less than a week away? I'm not even kidding! Five! Five days away! Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and then Thursday night is THE night! 10 PM (EST) on USA Network!

In the meantime, do you even know what cool, awesome things you can do while you wait? You could download the DIG decoder app--when you point it at posters and pictures you see around town, you might have a cool hologram of Jason Isaacs pop up at you, just like Princess Leia in Star Wars except he's a dude. And you can win cool prizes on the app, I've read, but I don't know what the cool prizes are.(I confess: I can't get the app to work properly on my phone. I bet this is because I have an Android and not an iPhone.) (But guess what, iPhone freaks, guess what? I'm ALSO not always having to run out every 6 months to stand in over-crowded Apple stores every time Apple tells me I need to drop $900 on their newest gadget.)

What I've become slightly addicted to (having an addictive personality, this would happen, naturally) is the Dig Decoded game. (digdecoded.com). If you like solving puzzles, this is for you. If you like linguistics, solving codes, and ancient archeological historical facts, then seriously, go do this game. It will be your JAM. The best part? Big, exotic prizes, like a trip to somewhere amazing and ancient. Y'all! This is like Candy Crush Saga, but with actual, tangible prizes! Unlock each level and get closer to an actual PRIZE. All you get with Candy Crush Saga is a lot of swearing, staying up late, and everyone who loves you plotting to get you on A&E's show Intervention. (I don't play Candy Crush Saga, but I know people who do...I know someone who plays TWO Candy Crush Sagas--one on her phone, one on her husband's. AT THE SAME TIME. That's a cry for help, in a Tetris matrix hell.)

Anyway, I started the game sort of very casually, and 60 minutes later was all: Damn you, USA Network! I don't have time or room for another addiction! I've got things to DO.

(sigh.) This is just diabolical. This is going to be just like SERIAL, I can just feel it. Somebody else is going to be on a plane to Israel or Croatia at the end, and I'm going to be consoled with a t-shirt or something. But it's fine. It's FINE! Jason Isaacs is going to get me into Sundance 2016.

So, let's see...did I cover everything I wanted to? (I have a list with me--mad at Jason Isaacs, now I like him again because it's too hard not to like him plus he can't help it since he's a man and they do a lot of stupid things (I'm sorry, boys, but you do--it's the Y chromosome, which I suspect is a defective X chromosome), Dig app, and the Dig Decoded game which I'm already addicted to and I can tell it's going to be a problem.

But MOST important, on Thursday? You are going to be SO sad on Friday if you don't watch DIG (on USA!) at 10/9 Central. Because you will  miss espionage, intrigue, history, blood, red cows, crazy religious fanatics (my personal favorites), and naked people having sex (which is, in my opinion, the preferred way to do it). Apparently, this show has EVERYthing. And it was filmed on location in Jerusalem, Croatia, and New Mexico. The only thing they messed up on was not finding a way to fit Atlanta into the story line. But the important thing is you will miss out if you don't watch. I bet there's going to be code words throughout each episode, and if you don't watch, everyone's going to be speaking code around you and you won't know! You won't even know.

Here. Go watch this--it's the official music video trailer for the show. It features the song I'D LIKE TO CHANGE THE WORLD by British band Ten Years After. Except a talented lady named Jetta is doing the updated version of this. Still, how did the DIG creators know?! How did they KNOW I dig 60's/70's music AND British rock bands?! Whoever's scoring this show might be my soul mate. (No, seriously. I'm actually being serious: do you want to meet for drinks?) 

DIG (on USA)! Go watch this--if you remain uninterested, there's clearly something very wrong with you and I'm sorry, we can't be friends:

Holy cow (literally)! Isn't that a great song? And it fits so well with everything I've heard about the premise of the show. Now. If they stick a couple of Barry Manilow songs into an episode or two, I'll KNOW whoever's scoring this show is my soul mate and we should run away to Fiji together and swim naked in the Pacific and eat crab legs on the beach. (But only after DIG's last episode, okay? Someone told me the final show will blow your mind.)

perils of memoir.

Before I begin, may I do a quick, do-gooder, feel-good plug? My friend Angie is desperately trying to raise money to send a sweet, handsome, good mannered young man to a private school. He's being bullied at his current school, and he has a life story that'll break your heart if you knew all the details. You may not have the money to donate, but if you could, that would be fantabulous. If you can't, would you consider sharing this link with people you know, or people you know who might be able to donate? You'll earn 10,000 good Karma points, I promise.

Okay, now on to my thoughts about perils of memoir:

Sooo...you know how, a few days ago, I wrote a piece here about my experience of going to Presbyterian Sunday school? And you know how, a few days ago, in the piece I wrote about Presbyterian Sunday school, I sort of threw my own mother under the bus for making me go to Presbyterian Sunday school? Yes. Well, here is why we don't write about our parents until AFTER they are dead:

guilty.com

Obviously, my memory is faulty. In my mother's defense, I DO remember her teaching a Sunday school class at this church. And I remember it because she taught her students either about Passover or Moses taking his people out Egypt or something, and I remember that because my mother (the original hands-on teacher) baked unleavened bread at home so the children could taste the same kind of food God's People wandering the desert might have eaten. And I remember the unleavened bread because it. was. gross. (and possibly gluten-free; god bless you gluten-free people, I really don't know how you do it).

In MY defense, I would like to say: I do remember my mom being at home at least once or twice and my dad dropping my brother and me off, curbside, and then peeling away into a Sunday sunrise for 45 minutes to an hour. It's times like these I wish my dad were here still, so we could take this matter to family court. Because I do remember this happening. But okay okay, mom, I do admit: I probably used a bit of too much artistic license when I made grossly overstated claims that it happened every single Sunday. I mean, obviously, my mom was dropping us off and peeling off into her Sunday school classroom.

My teacher DID have dark, bouffant hair, and the room was dark wood-paneled. And the teacher was the opposite of happy with me when she uncovered my Sunday school truancy. And the whole bathroom bit with the old lady was an actual, true thing that really, really happened. (Freakin' old ladies in bathrooms, honestly.)

I also feel like I need to say, in my mom's defense and because I know she's probably worried about it, I do not shirk organized religion today because of Presbyterian Sunday school or anything my mom did. I shirk organized religion today simply because it doesn't work for me, who I am right now or where I'm at. If I can find an organized religion that teaches love, goodwill to all humanity, and doesn't think it has aaaaallll the answers and is the foremost final and only correct version of the Divine Infinity; if I can find an organized religion that doesn't have sects of followers that are nuttier than a jar of peanut butter; and if I can find an organized religion that doesn't try to guilt trip its followers into constantly giving them a huge chunk of whatever little money they earn at whatever jobs they do, then I will concede. I will join the this organized religion, and I will be happy and shut up about it.

THAT'S why I don't do organized religion--I have a healthy sense of Something Bigger than me out there (which I call God for convenience's sake...Mom! Success!), but I think the peaceful religions are still pretty judge-y and the not-so peaceful ones, well. I mean helloooo: ISIS. That's what happens when you don't have all your shit together and under control, Organized Religion.

But getting back to my original point: herein lies the peril of memoir. Memories are faulty, and sometimes the actual event may need a little storytelling magic to make it more fun for a reader. But then feelings can get hurt, and I think I hurt my mom's, and I didn't intend for that to happen. I'm sorry, and I love you, Mom.

Wait--can I tell everyone how fabulous my mom is? Let me tell you a story about how deep my mother's love runs:

So I had this dog growing up. Her name was Sassy. Sassy was my childhood companion, my doggy best friend, and I grieve her passing to this day. I was also wholly responsible for her existence on the planet, because we owned her mother, a temperamental Lhasa Apso named Muffin who peed on EVERYthing. Muffin went into heat (I guess because, maybe, back in the 70's spaying or neutering your animals wasn't a thing? My parents made sure her daughter, Sassy, who we kept, got spayed and spayed GOOD) and a stray French poodle we called Pierre knocked her up. I was told NOT to let Muffin out of the house when Pierre was sniffing around, but it was not explained why to me. Thus, being a curious 8 year old, I did it anyway...this is how I continue to get into all of my scrapes and misfortunes at 43, by the way: explain it to me, or I'm doing it anyway.

At any rate, X weeks later, voila! Puppies. Sassy was the runt of the litter and the feistiest, so we gave Muffin away to some gay hairdressers (who left her alone and she promptly peed all over their designer couch) and kept Sassy.

One day, years and years later, Sassy got old. Her eyes had cataracts. She was tired all the time. Her memory was shot--she'd go outside, forget to pee/poop, and come inside and do it. She was a mess, and felt icky, and it was clearly time for someone to make a hard decision. (Years later, I'd have my own animal, a cat named Tasha, who would be in the same predicament, and I would be unable to make this hard decision...and so God would make it for me, and when God makes decisions like this for you, let me just say: God can be a bit of dick about it. And that's only because I was such a dick not to make the hard decision and do the right thing for Tasha...sort of the Universe's hands-on teaching method: "Don't do this again, okay? This hurts. She's hurting, and so now you are, too." That kind of thing.)

I couldn't bear to let Sassy go, I didn't want to say good-bye. Good-byes are very very hard for me; they always have been, they always will be.

We were traveling to see family that Christmas so my mom told me we were putting Sassy in a boarding kennel as always and to come say good-bye to her. I'd never been asked to say good-bye any of the other times we'd put her in a kennel while we went on vacation, so I was suspicious. I said good-bye and that was that.

Here's where my mother's sacrifice and love comes out: coming home, my mom knew what would happen. The Truth would be revealed. However, while at our relatives' house, she got sick with the flu. I mean SICK. Vomiting, diarrhea, temperature...all of it. My mom, who has an incredibly low pain threshold, came home anyway, even though she was begged to stay and fly back when she felt better. It was bad weather, and our flight got delayed by hours. My mom laid in an airport, sick beyond belief, and then flew home in misery because she didn't want me to find out about what had actually happened to my beloved friend, my childhood companion, without her being able to comfort me and explain it.

So that's my mom. Sunday school sleeper inner (in my head), unleavened breads/hands-on teacher, secret keeper (not really--she's as bad at that as I am), self-sacrificer. Who thinks I should go to church on Sundays. And will write guilt-trip inducing corrections on your birthday card if you cross her. But I also got my incredibly ironic and macabre sense of humor from her, and so thanks mom!

Be careful when penning memoir, Internet. There are WAY too many fact checkers out there. And they will put it on a home-made Hallmark card, they will put it right there, don't you make them!